The Art of Worship
by GreenPuma
Summary: “As a Cullen you were born with certain—endowments—that dispose you to success with women. But, there is a beauty in sex which, if you grew to appreciate it—an art which, if you commited to learning it—would bring you such pleasure as mortals never know"
1. Man to Man

A/N: They don't call Carlisle "Hot Bitch" for nothin'…

* * * * *

"Edward, may I see you in my study?"

Carlisle's tone was deceptively casual, as if we convened in his study with regularity. We didn't.

"I thought that since your mother was out, we might have a talk, just the two of us."

As we walked silently toward the east wing of the house, I wondered what this could be about. My grades were excellent, I never stayed out past curfew, and even if he found my stash, I had no reason to believe he'd care.

But there were some things Carlisle took seriously—like anything that happened in his study.

Handcrafted wood shelves stood from floor to ceiling holding first editions and other rare books. The 19th century furniture had been passed down through generations along with mementos from across the globe. A fire continually burned in the hearth as an old phonograph crackled and whined. Portraits of Cullen men hung on walls, their oceanic eyes staring down past haughty cheekbones.

"Scotch?" he asked, closing the door needlessly before striding to his liquor cabinet.

Uh-oh. Carlisle only liked us to drink together when he had something to get off his chest. The last time he called me in for a man-to-man was the night they gave me the Volvo. We'd gotten through a third of a bottle of Blue Label before he'd said his peace on the privilege of driving a car and the responsibilities that go along with it.

"Thank you," I accepted, in a tone as cordial and controlled as his.

I took a seat on the leather chair that faced his direction just as he pulled out a well-aged Laphroaig. I studied him, for clues, as he dropped a single ice cube into each tumbler, poured us each two fingers of whiskey, and traveled to join me on the chair opposite mine. He gave away nothing and, as usual, I didn't know whether to resent his distance or to respect the hell out of his discipline. No teenage kid wanted to admit to idolizing his dad, but in many ways, I did.

He settled in next to me, resting the bottle on the table in between us as he placed one of the tumblers in my hand. I met his eyes, and we raised our glasses in a silent toast, before turning our gazes to the fire. The whiskey tasted good and I made a mental note to raid Carlisle's supply. The cheap stuff was fine for the flask I brought to school, but I wouldn't mind enjoying a sip or two of this in the privacy of my own room.

"You and Bella are close," he finally began, after a few minutes.

Hmmm…he wanted to talk about Bella. I didn't answer because I could tell he wasn't finished.

"Your mother seems to think you two are—_being_ _intimate_—with each other."

Brilliant—now they're speculating on my sex life.

"Are you?"

I felt his eyes slide back to me. I kept my face neutral, my eyes on the fire.

"Yes, we're very close," I said calmly.

"Have you been intimate with one another?"

To anyone else, his voice would have sounded perfectly even, but I sensed his slight annoyance. He didn't like how good I'd become at his subtle brand of insolence. The corner of my mouth may have quirked upwards in amusement as I looked back over at him.

"Carlisle, when a man and a woman love each other—"

Yes, it was wicked of me, but he was asking for it. He was a doctor—couldn't he just come out and say S-E-X ?

"You underestimate me, Edward," he retorted evenly. "Even if you can't fathom that I was your age once, at least give me credit for living closer to reality than the other parents in this town. Remember, I'm the one prescribing their kids birth control and helping them figure out what to do when they don't use it."

I wanted to tell him not to underestimate me, to give me credit for not being one of the incompetent brood I went to school with but thought better of it. I distilled my thoughts into a more diplomatic response.

"Dad, I know that the pill is over 97% effective if taken as directed. I know that condoms and abstinence are the only ways to reduce the risk of STDs, and that condoms must be applied properly—with the tip pulled up flat and empty—in order for them to work."

See how I threw in that shit about abstinence? It never hurt to keep your parents guessing.

"I know you know those things, Edward. I know you'll take measures to protect you and Bella and I hope you know that if anything unexpected happens you can trust your mother and me enough to come to us for help."

Carlisle and Esme were decent people, and I knew I had it better than a lot of kids. They'd be pissed if I got Bella pregnant, but they wouldn't freak out, and I respected them for that.

Conceding, I said "I appreciate that…but, Dad…why arewe here?"

* * * * *

Carlisle swirled his glass again, the remaining sliver of ice a mere shard floating in honey-colored liquid. I followed suit as he looked back toward the hearth, patiently waiting for him to reveal the conversation.

"Edward…have I ever told you how much your grandmother Eleanor disapproved of your mother?"

I shook my head. He almost never spoke of his parents, who were killed before I was born. I was surprised, and intrigued, that he spoke of them now. I was dying to know more about them.

"She wouldn't even give me her engagement ring to ask for your mother's hand. Even though Esme's family had its own fortune, she came up with every excuse in the book for why we shouldn't be together, saying Esme was after our money, that she was pursuing other men simultaneously for _their_ money, that she was sleeping with other men…mother named every conceivable charge you could level against a woman trying to marry into a family like ours. Why she believed this about Esme was a different story, a misunderstanding I will share with you at another time. But your grandfather, my father, never believed a word of it. He knew not only that your mother loved me, but that she was loyal, and would be a faithful wife. He knew I never had to worry about Esme straying from me because our love was real."

Carlisle turned back to look at me pointedly.

"He knew I could satisfy her every need."

Wait…what?

_He can't mean—_

When Carlisle raised a confirming eyebrow, I could only gape in embarrassment. Jesus, dad—TMI!

"Son, you are here to receive a precious gift. It is one that my father bestowed upon me, and his father bestowed upon him—one I will pass on to you now and expect that you give to your own sons when it is time."

What. The. Fuck?

"You are a Cullen, and were therefore born with certain natural—_endowments_—that predispose you to success with women. But, there is a beauty in sex which, if you could only grow to appreciate it—an art which, if you could only commit to learning it—will bring you and the women in your life such divine fulfillment as most mortals never know. It is the art of worship, Edward, and it has very little to do with sex."

His gaze was as intense and I could barely breathe, much less process my surprise at this cache of Cullen family wisdom. Carlisle was subtle most of the time, but when he wasn't he could be quite intimidating. It didn't help that he'd hit the nail on the head about my need for some, erm…guidance. The truth was, I'd been consumed with worry about pleasing Bella.

"So, I ask you again, son. Have you and Bella been intimate with one another?"

I shook my head in sheepish truth.

"But, you plan to be."

I nodded.

"Very good…" he smiled, polishing off the rest of his glass, "…then, there's still time."

* * * * *

I stared dumbly at the fire as Carlisle refilled our glasses, held in anticipation as he took his time retrieving ice, pouring whiskey, and resuming his seat next to me. When he pushed the glass into my hand, his eyes drilled into mine.

"The first, and most important, rule is that Cullen men don't fuck. Even when we are pounding away and pulling hair and tangled in the most depraved positions, we do not surrender to the monster. Cullen men surrender only to our devotion for the woman before us."

I nodded my understanding.

"I won't lie—this can be difficult when you are young, when you are tempted to be with women with whom you share little but lust, when your hormones threaten to possess your entire being and care for yourself without regard to your partner."

"I am completely devoted to Bella," I said with conviction.

One day, sooner than anyone thought, I was going to ask that girl to marry me. Carlisle nodded his approval.

"Then, you're ready for the second rule: always take care of her first. Bring her all the pleasure she can stand before you go seeking yours."

This was less tense than I had feared, but I couldn't bring myself to ask for specifics on how to please Bella. I defaulted to an easier question.

"What if she makes it—" I stumbled.

_Hard._

"—difficult? What if I try, but she wants to…move it along?"

Carlisle's eyes registered understanding.

"With experience, you will learn how to please her first, even if you skip right to it. Until then, persuade her to let you slow things down, to show her the joys of foreplay. You'll need to become as adept at calming her as you are at exciting her. Particularly if she is inexperienced, you will want her as relaxed as possible. Having you inside her will be painful."

I nodded and buried my nose in my tumbler, taking a long sip of my drink. Carlisle was beyond kind in that moment, and I wished I could be as uninhibited with him as he was being with me. But the two of us talking like this was still too surreal.

"What's rule number three?"

"That every woman is different and only she can teach you what she likes. So, forget everything you've seen in porn movies and everything you hear in the locker room. When you're with Bella, listen for the words she says and the clues her body gives you—does her breathing change when you kiss her this place or that? Does she pull your body towards certain parts of hers? And don't just listen for what she's encouraging you to do—read the signs when she's telling you what not to do, as well. For example, if she's vocal with appreciation for one thing, she may be quiet when you do something she dislikes. Does she push towards you when she wants more of something? If so, she may pull away from you if she wants less of something. It is hard work, at the beginning, to read a woman's signs. But her body is talking to you—it's telling you what to do."

I contemplated my time with Bella and knew I'd not been as thorough as Carlisle was suggesting. I felt that some part of her wanted more from me, and it wasn't just about going all the way. Her kisses (fuck, so delicious) were hungry, but I didn't know for what.

"Do you have questions, son?"

_What if I can't read the signs? What if she's too inexperienced to even know what she wants, much less indicate it? What if I'm too inexperienced to understand or give it to her? And, damnit, Carlisle, why are you holding out on me? Where is all the Cullen wisdom on how to touch a woman's g-spot and her clit and even her nipples in ways that drive her wild? Surely, grandfather gave you at least that…_

"No," I said, shaking my head.

He rose, and I took that as my cue to do the same.

"Then we'll leave the rest for next week."

Next week? He slapped his hand on my shoulder as he led us out of his study and when we reached the back stairs he turned me to look at him. He was smiling broadly and his eyes were playful, and proud.

"In the meantime, son…_practice_."

* * * * *

End Notes: This fic will only be 4 or 5 chapters long, with Chapter 5 as a possible Epilogue/bonus from Carlisle POV. In the meantime, I have a question for you:

What is the most important advice for worshipping a woman that Carlisle should pass down to Edward?


	2. Practice

**A/N: **Well, here it is—Chapter 2. I've had it done for awhile but, as usual, have been holding onto it because I'm trying to synchronize with posting on Twilighted. Let's just say that after nearly two weeks of Chapter 1 sitting in the queue and still not being posted, I've given up and decided to post it as it's done. Hope you are still enjoying. Thanks to all of those who reviewed!

*** * * * ***

**BPOV**

Friday nights, the chief always worked, and Edward came over to "do homework". Homework, of course, meant making out in my bedroom, and we'd created a simple racket to guarantee our privacy. Edward had bought a few of those prepaid cell phones they sold in Port Angeles. We always knew where all the parties would be, so we'd gotten in the habit of disguising our voices and calling in anonymous complaints whenever someone we didn't like was having one. Bernice, the sixty-three-year-old biddie on the night switchboards had hearing so bad she wouldn't have recognized us if we used our real voices.

It was now 10:00, the call had been placed, and I was not-so-subtly dragging Edward to my room. Between his baseball practices and my history project, not to mention piles of regular homework, we'd hardly seen each other all week. I was absolutely ravenous for him, and the way my lips assaulted his before the door even closed behind us let him know as much.

He responded immediately, his tongue snaking in eagerly to stroke mine, his kiss thorough and deep. I drowned in it blissfully until he released my mouth for air. I moaned as he dragged his nose down my neck, as he pulled the flat collar of my shirt aside to bite down on my shoulder. I whimpered in helpless pleasure as I felt my panties dampen.

"Goddamn, Bella…" he moaned, pressing himself to my hip to let me feel how hard he was.

It was always like this between us—always dangerously incendiary—and fuck, if Edward Cullen didn't make me want him. We'd been together for six out of the seven months since I'd moved to Forks, and we were desperately in love. I wanted everything with this man—my first time, getting out of this town, building a life together, a family one day. It was that all-consuming want that made me drag my feet to put the brakes on where this was going. Edward was a virgin too and didn't seem stressed about us waiting until the time was right. He thought I just had the common jitters, but I hadn't been honest with him about my _other _fears.

I'd gone through my life knowing I was the mistake of two teenagers who thought they were in love, but weren't. Their naiveté, of course, had dire consequences—a child who was never meant to be born, a marriage that made an honest woman out of my mother but a liar out of them both, a broken home that turned me into a pinball who bounced among parents, grandparents, and other far-flung relatives. I was resolute that this brand of madness should begin, and end, with me.

Most of me accepted that this had no bearing on Edward and me. That we weren't Phil and Renee. That I would simultaneously use the pill, condoms, spermicidal gel, and a diaphragm every time I had sex until I finished graduate school if it meant avoiding what my parents went through. Deep down, I knew that if Edward and I made love right now, it would be beautiful and sweet and irrevocably right. Indeed, I'd been letting up on the brakes in recent weeks, a fact that hadn't escaped his notice.

What was surprising me now was how Edward seemed to be backpedaling. It was like something had him spooked. Maybe he was afraid that I was unsure? I guess I'd just have to prove to him otherwise.

"Touch me, Edward." I begged, pressing my body right back into his.

"Tell me where, love."

Hmm…that was new. Usually he lavished me with touches on my whole body—his hands would run up and down my arms, his fingertips would caress my face and tuck back my hair, the backs of his fingers would graze my breasts and his palm would cup my dampened sex.

"Everywhere…" I moaned.

And then I squeaked like a little mouse when he lifted me up before taking a short few steps and depositing me gently on the bed. There was something different in his eyes as he stripped me down to my bra and panties—something different from the dozens of times he'd done it before. By the time he wore only gray boxer briefs, I lay transfixed by the sight of his body of the quarter-sized wet spot on the front of his skivvies. I arched my body up, hoping he would blanket himself on top of me as he had so many times before, but he did not. He slid in on one side of me and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Please, Bella…" he beseeched, his blue-green irises hypnotic as pendulums, "I want to know what drives you mad. Show me..."

I wanted to take his hand and slip it beneath my panties, to slide his long, glorious finger across my wetness as proof that he already knew exactly what he was doing. But something stopped me. He was actually serious. I reached out to stroke his jaw, and when my fingers touched, he closed his eyes. His expression was uncommonly pained, and for the first time, the most obvious of thoughts occurred to me. Edward Cullen—this gorgeous, magic-tongued god who had more sex in his pinkie finger than most men had in their whole bodies—was nervous. As if I didn't already combust in his presence. As if he didn't have my lady parts throbbing right now. With compassion for his unlikely humanity, I threw him a bone.

"I like it when you bite my shoulder…"

He bowed his head and gave me a gentle nip. I reached for his hand and brought it up to my hardened nipple, so he could see the effect he was having and bit my lip to stifle my smile when I heard his soft moan. He was being so cute, I threw him another.

"…and when you run your fingers down my legs…"

God, I loved watching those long fingers touch me. The pressure was light, a soft caress. He seemed transfixed by the goose bumps he had caused to pebble my skin. He'd backed himself into a kneeling position at the foot of the bed, and slowly lifted my heel to his shoulder. Turning his head he began kissing up my calf. It was heavenly, but there was one more thing he'd stumbled upon once—one thing I'd been _dying_ for him to do again.

"Fuck...and when you lick my ankles."

He raised an eyebrow in surprised interest, and had his fulfillment of my request not caused me to lose the power of coherent speech, I may have shot back a snarky retort. Our conversation stopped when instinct took over and didn't resume until we cursed simultaneously at the sound of Edward's phone alarm.

"Fifteen minutes 'till curfew," he said needlessly, the regret in his voice evident.

Regret, indeed. It was our hottest make out session yet.

"Maybe we can pick this up tomorrow? In the meadow?" I suggested hopefully.

A brilliant grin lit his face before he bent down to kiss me.

"Maybe…"

* * * * *

**EPOV**

I had raced up the stairs the second I got home, my leaking cock begging me for something, anything, to relieve the pressure. I barely made it to the shower before I started stroking myself, reliving the sounds of moans I had never heard from her as I worked her, over and over, with simple things I'd never known she loved. When I remembered the soft "yes" she had hissed when I licked her ankle, I lost it, panting quietly as my essence gushed over my fist.

It took me a solid twenty minutes to catch my breath and pull myself together. I put on pajamas and headed down the back stairs under the guise of going to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. Secretly, I was hoping that Carlisle was in his study, that he would remember his promise to talk again soon and invite me in, even though it hadn't been a week. My mom was still visiting colleges with Alice, and I'd noticed how restless Carlisle was. It wasn't even midnight yet—he had to be awake.

I took my time grilling a ham and cheese sandwich, contemplating my approach.

"Smells good."

His voice broke me out of my reverie, and I smiled in the direction of the skillet before turning to face him.

"Want one?"

"Thank you," he said, with a nod.

We made smalltalk, about how Esme and Alice were doing, about how helpless and malnourished we were without mom's cooking, about the hijinks of the townspeople that week at the hospital. After we'd finished our sandwiches and put the dishes in the dishwasher, we stood facing each other.

Here goes.

"So I practiced."

"And?"

"You were right. She was giving me clues—when I paid better attention, she really seemed to, uh…" I scratched my head, "…respond."

Carlisle smiled as tactfully as possible, but I could see the pride.

"What did it teach you?"

I thought about it.

"Well, the things she liked…were kind of obscure. I expected her to want me to touch her a certain way, you know, in all the obvious places…but really little things, on parts of her body that were nowhere near…"

I cut myself off, and Carlisle didn't make me finish.

"Good, you're learning."

I didn't know what to say next. Carlisle looked thoughtful, but otherwise unreadable, so I got set to make my retreat.

"Do you have time for scotch, son? Maybe we could continue our conversation. That is, if you're not too tired."

I shook my head and bit back a smile.

"No, I'm not too tired."

* * * * *

Carlisle poured the first drink as I waited, this time more aware of the paintings of my forefathers. I'd always fancied them to be gruff old men, as rigid and formal as their portrait poses. But now I wondered: who had they really been? Had they loved their wives, as Carlisle loves Esme, or had they 'worshipped' many women? Handing me my glass, my dad took his seat and drilled me with that serious look that told me he was about to say something important.

"Tonight we'll talk anatomy, and we'll start with a woman's most important sexual organ: _her_ _mind_."

He'd been so right the first time; I was hanging on his every word.

"Nothing will compensate for failing to get her in the right mental state—not years of experience, not flawless technique, not even a huge Cullen cock."

Yeah, he was talking about us.

"Think, Edward. Two people don't just find themselves in the bedroom—something gets them there. Something that may not be sexual at all sparks a sexual attraction. Now, you have to figure out what things do that for Bella. Does she get off on the way you look at her? The words you say to her and how you say them? Does she like the way you smell? To this day, I can't eat an ice cream cone in front of your mother without—"

Jesus, Carlisle—keep it clean!

"Can we please focus on Bella?"

He at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"Tell me…when, outside of your time in the bedroom, does Bella seem particularly affected by you?"

I was usually pretty good at sensing when girls were dazzled by me, but Bella was harder to read.

"She blushes when I fasten her hair back behind her ear…"

He nodded encouragingly, "Go on…"

"And she likes it when I call her my 'love'"

"Very true."

"And sometimes I catch her staring at my lips."

Carlisle sipped his scotch and studied me, smiling.

"You're missing a big one," he informed me.

Out of observations, I shrugged.

"Your fingers, Edward."

"Seriously?"

I was genuinely surprised.

"You can't have missed how dazed she becomes every time you play the piano," he laughed.

"I thought she was devastated by my talent!"

Carlisle snorted loudly.

"I think she's too busy thinking of where she'd like those long fingers to focus on your musical prowess."

Carlisle glanced at his own hands approvingly before swigging his drink and loosing another amused chuckle.

_These long Cullen fingers haven't done very much so far_, I thought dejectedly. When Carlisle's expression changed, presumably to mirror mine, I figured I'd better put it on the table.

"Dad, I've never…"

How could I put this?

"Neither of us has ever…taken our underwear off. She asks for more, but…"

"You don't want to hurt her?"

"That, and I don't want to screw it up."

"What makes you think you will? Is she more experienced than you?"

"No, we're both pretty inexperienced," I mumbled.

"Then you'll learn together. Inexperience is nothing to be ashamed of."

He didn't get it. I wasn't explaining it well.

"When I'm with her, it doesn't seem like she's inexperienced. I know she seems all sweet and shy, but whenever we're together like that, she turns into this insatiable—"

…_beast_. I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration.

"Has she ever had an orgasm?"

Huh. We'd never explicitly talked about it, and I realized I didn't know.

"If so, she will be able to show you exactly how to touch her. If not, she may only have a vague idea of what it will take for her to achieve one. Either way, you should start by asking her to touch herself for you. But, pay attention—not just to how she touches her pussy, but to how the rest of her body plays in. Does she rub her breasts or tweak her nipples while she plays with her pussy? Does she even touch her clit directly, or does she just touch around it? How light is her touch? How slow? Does she rub, pinch, or tap? Women aren't like us—to most of them, 'harder, faster, more' doesn't feel better."

I nodded distractedly, visions of Bella touching herself infiltrating my mind and making my pants tight.

"And, when you do touch her, start with what you know she likes and do some exploration of your own. And I really mean an exploration—don't reduce her to her clit and her g-spot and be so laser-focused on getting her off that you ignore all the other touches that would bring her pleasure. I once heard of a woman who positively *came apart* when you stroked behind her knee as you sucked her clit."

Ugh. His wistful smile confirmed that, again, we were talking about my mother. I guess that was one way to take care of my hard-on.

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

Any horror stories from you about terribly unskilled lovers?


	3. She Comes First

**A/N: **Wow, folks—it's been awhile. Thanks for your patience and support as you awaited this update. My awesome beta, _**Sassenach Wench**_ saved me from certain fic-fuckery by giving me feedback that led to a rewrite that got the chapter into better shape. I hope it was worth the wait!

**Recap: **Carlisle's first piece of advice for Edward—to listen to Bella's body—goes very well for Edward when he practices it, and he waits for his next "assignment" from Carlisle. We find out that ExB have made out a lot but nothing with panties off, and Carlisle "assigns" Edward the task of finding out how to get Bella off by asking her to show him what pleases her.

Many thanks, as always, to my Twilighted Beta, _**Helena_Handbasket**_!

*** * * * ***

**BPOV**

"Edward!" I gasped at the sensation of his palm grazing the side of my bare breast as he gently bit the juncture of my neck and my shoulder.

We lay on a picnic blanket in our meadow, lunch untouched and legs intertwined. He was half on top of me, one thigh on the blanket with the other sandwiched appealingly between my legs. My slow writhing tugged at his erection where it was trapped between our hips. The movement created delicious friction for me as well, and I was sure he could feel my heat on his thigh through both of our jeans.

"Bella…" he growled, as if I were the one sexing him to the edge of sanity.

It wasn't fair for any one being to have such dominion over another, but, like this, Edward owned me. His scent alone bewitched me. Add in long, skilled fingers, the weight of his body, and the glorious things he could do with his mouth, and I was gone. He had always made me lose control, but something about him lately was different. In two days, he'd fanned the flames of my barely controlled fire into an inferno of unbridled lust.

"Please…" I begged hoarsely, for what I didn't know.

He drew back to look at me, eyes dark and needful and his hair even wilder than usual.

"Tell me, love," he murmured between kisses, "I want to know what you want."

The backs of his fingertips began grazing my cheeks.

"I want to hear your fantasies," he continued, dropping tiny kisses along my jaw.

I barely heard my own soft whimper.

"I want to know how you touch yourself when you think of me."He traced his nose down the side of my neck.

"I want to memorize the look on your face and the sound of your voice when you come."

I moaned as he kissed his way back up.

"Will you let me?" he whispered once he reached my ear.

* * * * *

**EPOV**

For once, I was glad to be unraveled by want, to be so drunk with lust that I lost my filter. Thoughts of Bella getting herself off infiltrated my mind from the moment Carlisle planted the seed, and my hunger emboldened me to ask. For a pregnant moment, I feared I'd overstepped a line, but her whispered "yes" came just in time. The look in her eyes as I pulled back to see her was one of helpless need. The most luscious stab of fear sliced through my desire as I realized she would show me.

My hands trembled subtly from the effort of my restraint as I helped her off with her jeans. My cock clenched deliciously when I saw that, indeed, the violet-colored lace bra I'd slid off of her earlier had delicate French-cut shorts to match. I slid my fingers up her leg in a motion that I hoped was soothing before making them stop at the waistband of her little panties. Though my girl seemed ready to go there with me, this was uncharted territory for us both. I stopped, then—completely—searching her eyes again for the creep of apprehension. Her determined nod neutralized the hesitant bite of her lip, and I slid the last piece of fabric off.

"Beautiful," I heard myself breathe, as Bella opened herself to me.

I was kneeling by her feet, and she'd bent her knees, and through the slight spread of her legs, I could see…everything. I lost myself then, feasting my eyes first upon her pussy, noting how it was different, and more delicate, than the ones I'd seen in porn. Though Bella was well-groomed, she wasn't shaved bare, and her little strip of curls looked soft. I spied her rosy clitoris near the top of her slit, and marveled at how the skin near her opening positively glistened. I drank in the rest of her, from her puckered areolas to the heated flush on her skin that belied them. By the time my eyes met hers, she was writhing subtly upon the blanket—waiting, I realized, for me.

"Are you cold, love?" I asked, fairly certain of the answer.

Her teeth still worried her lip as she shook her head.

"Nervous?" I whispered, less certain this time.

Her sheepish nod relieved me.

"You don't have to do this, Bella," I offered just as gently, letting her know with my eyes that things would be fine either way.

"I do this all the time," she admitted, sending a jolt of bliss to my dick. "It's just...I've never let anyone watch."

My eyes shot downward when I saw her hand move. It traveled slowly from where it sat on her hip, her middle finger leading a charge that ended on her darkened pink clit. Her breathing caught as she gave it two light strokes before pushing down toward her opening, before dipping a slender digit inside. I quelled the compulsion to sob with joy—I was desperate to see her at work.

I watched with rapt fascination at how she went in only to her knuckle, how she pulsed her finger slightly, almost imperceptibly, before withdrawing it languidly and dragging it up her slit. My fist tightened around her balled-up panties as her knees pigeoned inward and she began to stroke her inner labia with a gentle touch.

"You're so wet," I whispered in awe, my eyes still fixed on her center.

She didn't answer me—only kept on. Space and time dropped away as she moved her hand, intermittently painting and dipping with her finger. We moaned in unison when her left finger joined her right, first spreading the wetness around her lips and then double-teaming her clit. The surety of her movements and the finesse of her hands proved indeed she did this often.

I made the mistake of glancing up at her face and found her mouth agape in unbridled pleasure.

"Bella—"I sobbed brokenly, for I was panting now.

But her eyes were on me, and my crotch.

It had escaped my notice that I was stroking my hard-on through my jeans. By then, I was too fucking far-gone to care. A cool breeze hit then, surprising us both, her breathless silence broken by her sudden cry of pleasure.

"Help me," she pleaded gently, reaching for my hand, pulling my whole body toward her.

I scooted in closer, her one leg between my knees, and let her steer my hand.

_GentleGentleGentleGentleGentle_, I had the presence of mind to remember. She took my index finger straight to her opening and guided me slowly forth.

_Hot…Wet.. Silk…_didn't do justice to describing the feeling of being inside my Bella. We both exhaled deeply once my finger was submerged. Her walls tightened around me as she rotated my wrist until my palm faced skyward. She let out a long, gratified wail as I slowly pulled my finger out. We developed a fascinating rhythm. She teased her bud as I stroked her slowly from inside. I wasn't totally sure I was doing this right, but Bella's soft moaning and chanting—which seemed to be escalating—indicated otherwise. A whimper ripped from her, unbidden, as her fingers grasped to still my hand. I began to withdraw, worried I was hurting her, but she held my wrist in place.

My eyes flew to her face in time to witness the magnificence of her release, all arching backs and helpless cries, all aftershocks and bonelessness, and a final indolent sigh.

By the time I remembered my own arousal, what to do turned out to be moot. I'd come in my fucking pants.

* * * * *

**EPOV (Cullen Home)**

The moment my father saw my face, he ushered me right inside. As he strode wordlessly to grab two snifters from the bar (apparently troubled times called for cognac), I sank, defeated, into my wingback chair. Staring interminably into the fire, I reveled in the liquor's burn. My dad's quiet solidarity, the way he knew when to let me come to him, gave me the space to work it all out.

"I think I need help with rule number two—not the part about making her come, the part about making sure she does before me."

When I met my dad's eyes, his smile was not mocking. It seemed to register…pride?

"So, I take it things went well yesterday?"

He must've misheard me.

I grumbled, "Not as well as I'd hoped."

Annoyed that I'd have to say this out loud, I resolved to only have to say it once.

"Dad…" I said gravely, "…there is no unit of measure small enough to describe how fast I came."

The man actually laughed—_laughed_—as I angrily blushed with a depth that surely rivaled my Bella's.

"But it sounds like _she_ came?"

"Yes, but—"

He wasn't listening to me.

"And it was the first time you ever tried?"

"_Yes_." I ground out, my voice now accusing, "It was _you_ who told me to have her show me."

Now I was really pissed. Why were we reviewing things we both already knew? And why did he seem almost gleeful?

"Son, do you know how many husbands can't make their wives come? How many women have never even had an orgasm? How many rely on toys and masturbation for whatever crumbs they can get?"

Wait, seriously? What kind of piss-ant husband couldn't make his wife come?

"Yet, you manage to find a woman who not only knows her own body, but who trusts you enough to show you how to please her, and you get her off _the first time_?"

_I guess when you put it that way…_

"Bella seemed to like it," I admitted cautiously, still a little upset.

"I'll just bet she did," he retorted cheekily, and let out another little laugh. "Looks like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

At that comment, I rolled my eyes, but I might have been smiling inside.

"So you want to talk stamina, then?"

"Please," I asked, calmer now.

_I can't handle a repeat of today._

"How often to you jerk off?"

A week ago, this conversation would have scarred me for life, but it seemed we'd come a long way.

"Daily," I admitted without hesitation.

"Well, there's your problem, son. You have to step it up."

For the next 20 minutes, he coached me on timing and frequency, on the practice of backing myself off when I was getting close. He warned me off of desensitizing creams, and supplements and pharmaceuticals, and told me about something called a kegel. He said this was the hardest part for a teenager to master, but once I got it I'd be farther ahead than men much older than me.

I was feeling much better about things by the time we finished our cognac, and thanked him profusely as I stood to leave. He clapped a reassuring hand on my shoulder as we strode toward the door.

"You did great, son. I'm beyond proud of you, not just for succeeding, but for having the courage to try."

"Thanks, Pop."

By then we were both grinning.

"Oh! Before I forget, there's something I want you to read before the next time we meet."

He stepped back over to his desk and picked up a small white book that sat, ready, near one of the corners. I read the title aloud as he placed it in my hand.

"_She comes first: The Thinking Man's Guide to Pleasuring a Woman?_"

He waggled his eyebrows.

"Take good care of it—that copy's got sentimental value."

I cringed, wondering whether I'd ever be able to look my mother in the eye again.

"Go get 'er, Tiger!" he called as I walked up the stairs.

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

Hope you enjoyed! This is the first lemony scene I have written in the Twilight fandom, and the first lemony scene between teenagers I have written in a lonnnng time. Constructive feedback would be extremely welcome! Also, next chappie is Carlisle POV. And it will be smutty.

**Other Stuff:** My other fic, Facebook Friends, is getting some good reviews and has been nominated for two awards:

The iPod Award for best musically-inspired fic (The Moonlight Awards: themoonlightawards(dot)yolasite(dot)com/nominees(dot)php) - voting began on 10/14

The Imprint Award for best original plot (The Sparkle Awards: www(dot)thesparkleawards(dot)webs(dot)com/nominees(dot)htm) – voting began on 10/16

Also, feel free to check out/follow my new blog, Diary of a Fic Fiend: http://diaryofaficfiend(dot)blogspot(dot)com


	4. In The Bedroom

**A/N:** So, here it is! The CPOV I have promised since the beginning. I'm posting it as part of the fic, but it's really a one-shot outtake that opens Carlisle's and Esme's bedroom door. Only the very last scene advances the plot If I'd had this in good shape before the D.I.L.F. contest, I would have entered it—it kind of fits the theme. There are lemons, but it's really about Carlisle's love for his wife, and the tone is different from that of the rest of the fic. Please let me know how you like it!

Many thanks to _**Sassenach Wench**_, who read no fewer than four iterations of this chapter, maintaining grace and patience through its many changes. Thanks also to _**Ninapolitan**_ for pimping this fic all over town and giving it a shout-out on the awesome Twigasm Podcast!

* * * * *

**CPOV**

_They should be back by now_, I thought impatiently, straining my eyes to see the far end of the driveway before glancing again at my watch.

It had been eleven long days since I'd seen my girls and they were due back home around three. I took the day off from the hospital and, too eager to sleep in, had run my errands that morning. The fridge was stocked with their favorite foods; fresh flowers graced every surface; I'd chilled a bottle of Esme's favorite fumé blanc; and dinner was in the pot.

Wanting to be ready in case they got in early, I'd rushed to my bedroom to groom: a close shave with my straight razor and a fingernail clip; a shower with sandalwood soap; the grey cashmere sweater that hugs my biceps and the blue jeans that sit just right on my hips. The house was squeaky clean, and so was I. All there was left to do was wait.

_3:15 p.m._

And wait.

_3:25 p.m. _

And wait.

_3:35 p.m._

And wait.

I felt small standing in my study dwarfed by the tall palladium window, felt insignificant alone in this house. Though this was my family's estate—the house I grew up in—without her laugh, her touch, her smile, it didn't feel like home. Certainly, things felt empty without my daughter too. Despite her diminutive size, Alice had quite a presence. Yet however much I'd missed my daughter's light in my home, I was bereft without my wife.

_Where are they?_

I fingered the phone in my pocket, and considered giving them a call. I'd already been teased twice by Alice for being such a Nervous Nellie, but my peace of mind meant more than my pride. I got as far as unlocking the keyboard and scrolling to Esme's number when I heard the A4 on the drive.

Now, I'm not one for running, but I was out the door of my study in a flash. I managed to slow it to a brisk walk by the time I reached the foyer, managed not to swing the door open so hard as to take it off its hinges. Relief. Gratitude. Joy. Pride. I glowed as my girls stepped out of the car. My heart melted—as it did every time—when Alice ran to me and launched herself into my arms. I tamped down my sadness at the thought of her leaving for college, pretending she would always be my little girl.

"We missed you, dad!" she enthused, unaware of my grief.

"I missed you, too, squirt," I replied gruffly.

Esme's smile as she watched us was like the woman herself—knowing, precious and kind.

The blare of a car horn sent all of our heads turning to see the Volvo speed up the drive.

"Edward!" Alice exclaimed, abandoning me to greet her brother.

I closed the distance to Esme then, a new lump forming in my throat as I collected my wife in my arms. It took effort not to confess how much I'd missed her, not to lose myself in her touch, not to kiss her the way that I wanted. I settled for a caress to her face, a PG-13 kiss that wouldn't scar the kids, and a deep, telling gaze into her lovely eyes.

"Mom…" Edward breathed a minute later, with a smile in his voice, coaxing her from my arms to pull her into his own embrace.

I felt blessed then, to have my whole family back together.

_My family, together at last._

* * * * *

**Esme POV**

"Go ahead inside, Mom. Dad and I will bring in the bags," Edward smiled down at me.

How I loved my gentle son's voice. I would always cherish the bonds Alice and I forged that week, but I was relieved to be home with my boys.

"They must've really missed us this time," Alice whispered conspiratorially as we stepped into a sparkling clean house.

We giggled together, thinking of mother-daughter trips of years past, of coming home to a slew of well-intentioned gifts.

"Remember that time they tried to make baked alaska?" I recalled with a giggle.

She snorted. "I remember them setting the kitchen on fire."

By then, we were both all-out laughing, but I quickly nudged Alice in the side.

"Act grateful, honey," I chided gently, composing myself as I heard them coming in with our bags.

We spent the next few hours trading stories from our week. Carlisle caught us up on all the small-town adult gossip while Edward reported the latest at Forks High. I told the boys about the pieces we'd picked out on the two days we'd spent antiquing, and Alice gushed about NYU.

Their dinner was barely finished when the kids bee-lined for the door. Alice was ecstatic to see Jasper, and Edward was set to meet Bella. The blush that colored my son's cheeks when he announced this fact did not escape me. I would ask Carlisle about it later.

"Why don't you let me do the dishes, my love?" he murmured, reaching across the dinner table to hold my hand.

We were alone at last.

"It'll give you a chance to get comfortable," he reasoned, smiling coyly and knowing fully that he fooled no one with his ruse.

The kids would be gone for hours.

"I _could_ stand to get out of these travel clothes," I mused, every bit as coy, squeezing his hand as I rose from my chair.

He was fascinating like this, all calm beauty on the surface when beneath, he boiled like milk. One second you could barely recognize that he was heated; the next he boiled over, sudden and untamed. At times I preferred the wantonness of the overflow, and let him boil on high. At others I was all low heat and patient stirring, and a slow but constant burn.

_What will it be tonight?_

I wondered this as I climbed the staircase, feeling Carlisle's eyes on my legs as they wore the hell out of some dark, sheer stockings and high-heeled shoes. The delicious unknown of my husband's plan stepped with me into our gargantuan dressing room. We called it the closet—it had been converted from a guest room to adjoin our bedroom suite. I had designed the octagonal shape of the usable space and placed mirrors that allowed me to see from any angle. Standing before the chest holding my jewelry box, I took a moment to removed my earrings. I walked to my vanity and picked up my brush, mindful again of what he might have in store. Would we make slow, reverent love or would he fuck me with abandon? Would he slay me with laughter or astonish me to tears? Would he romance me first, relaxing me with a massage and feeding me dipped strawberries?

_Mmmmm, strawberries…_

My nipples hardened at the recollection of the last time we played with that fruit.

* * * * *

**CPOV**

I leaned against the doorframe for minutes watching her undress, uncaring of how the bottle chilled my hand. I'd planned to pour her a glass of wine and entice her to join me in our bath, to wash her gently before reacquainting her with our bed. I'd planned to kiss, massage, and caress the travel-weariness from her body. I'd planned to worship her for hours.

_I won't make it that long_

This fact, I knew, was shocking. Some men my age couldn't even get it up, but my own sex life was raging. Even more amazing—I wasn't fucking mistresses or hookers—I actually wanted to fuck my wife. Twenty years of marriage and a libido like mine meant that I'd been inside this woman a thousand times. Yet, just watching her, just being near her still made me _so fucking hard_. _Stamina-crushingly_ hard, after only a week!

It wasn't just lust, though there was a healthy dose of that. Over the years it had become more. We called it love—at least, that was the word we used when we tried to name it aloud. The essence of _it_ could not be spoken. But so big was _it_, that it came through in other ways—in touches, and gazes, and dreams.

I floated towards her, discarding the wine and glasses atop a dresser along the way. She didn't notice my presence until I was upon her, my chest to her back, my breath on her ear, and my hardness against her hip. When I met her eyes in the mirror, I saw another profound truth.

_I still have the same effect on her_

She knew what was coming. I'd done it a thousand times, yet she still anticipated my attack. Rather, she would humor me in my attack—allow me to indulge my inner predator—since we both know I, and not she, am the prey.

_She owns me_

For all of my tutelage of Edward, we'd not yet discussed control. I was building him up now—emboldening him to claim his power. I had yet to tell him that, with the right woman, the power belongs to her. My Esme knew this, of course, as she gazed back at me. Knew how she made me weak. Knew how she brought me to my knees for her, only for her. It was the most beautiful, frightening thing. It was the thing I could least control.

I broke her gaze in the mirror to slide my hands up her hips, to sweep her silky hair over one shoulder. The first wave of gratification washed over me as I drank in a billow of her perfume. My steady surgeon's hands found the zipper of her dress and lowered it languidly. I pushed the delicate fabric down from her shoulders and watched it pool at her feet.

"My love," I whispered as my head dipped to her neck, my teeth delivering a hungry bite to the juncture of her shoulder.

My hands returned to her waist, caressing it for a brief, tender moment before pushing her roughly to fold at her hips. Her forearms fell, crossed, upon the vanity to support her. She dropped the brush she'd been using on her hair. Outside of a sharp breath, she was maddeningly silent. Years of being quiet for the benefit of the kids had necessitated our restraint. But however subtle, I could still hear her reactions, sense her whimpers and gasps and whines. If anything, the forced silence turned me on, as did the moment she lost the ability to hold it.

Admiring her in the few clothes that remained, my cock twitched at the sight of her thigh-high clad legs and the filmy black cherry-colored thong that matched her bra and garter. I fell to my knees and shoved her thong aside to lap greedily at her slit. Her pussy was truly a gorgeous thing in its texture and taste and smell. I licked—just licked—inside her warmth, but with a zeal and practiced finesse that left us both panting. Eating her from behind made me into quite the tease (my tongue couldn't reach her clit). I could, however, do something else she liked…

Sitting back on my heels, I pulled slightly back, thumbing her ass cheek aside with one hand while I slid the finger of another into her pussy. I let my tongue (so lightly) graze her puckered hole, and she moaned low and sultry divine.

_Oh, God yes!_

It sent a jolt through my dick every time I managed to elicit French whore sounds from my classy, demure wife. I licked her there again, thinking of how I could make her come, before deciding she could wait a minute more. With almost inhuman speed, I pulled her to the floor, placed a throw pillow under her hips, and grabbed some lube. Seconds later, I was sucking her clit while the finger of one hand languorously stroked her g-spot. I held her in limbo for minutes, loving her nails on my scalp and the sounds she was making too much to let her fall. I waited until she was lost, until she'd thrown her head back in surrender and likely forgotten her own name. When I slicked up an idle digit and slid it into her ass, my woman completely shattered. No longer able to control her voice, she let out a soft, quivering scream. My wife was not a screamer, and on the rare occasion I turned her into one, I glowed golden with pride.

*** * * * ***

**Esme POV**

By the way he slithered up my body so soon after I came, I knew he was too keyed up to stop. He usually gave us a minute in between rounds, but tonight he was aggressive and wild. I loved when he could barely hold his control. I was glad he never truly crossed that line, but what a rush when he got close. He was attacking me now, his tongue sweeping my body smartly between pinches and squeezes and bites. He rid me of my bra, but I knew he'd leave the hose and shoes. My man was kinky like that.

I was sure we looked like the Tasmanian devil as we raced to take off his clothes. He'd been wicked to entice me with those jeans. It was a curse and a blessing, the way men improved with age while women fought to hold on to whatever they had. I'd recognized how true this would be for us many years before, thanking the gods that he'd not grow fat and complacent, gleeful that my desire for him would only grew with time. And it had. Carlisle owned me completely, and I was his willing slave.

He slid into me unexpectedly then, my walls clenching in anticipation, and I knew I would come again soon. Nothing gripped me harder than proof of his need and tonight his need was great. He cursed in a whisper as we stilled to relish the sensation, like breathless silence after freshly fallen snow. But the throb was strong, our hearts beating where we met, and soon I couldn't help but to move.

I rocked into his hips, and he pulled back to look at me. He loved the smolder of my eyes as I writhed. He joined my rocking, of course, riding me like a pro jockey, and I watched for all his beautiful signs. The lulling of his eyelids, the staccato rhythm of his breath, that final battle between surrender and control. He was trying to make it last so I'd get to come once more.

Inspired by my imminent release, and wanting to witness his climax in all its splendor, I stilled his hips and rolled him onto his back. He groaned indulgently, control now gone, as I lowered myself onto his cock. It was never long for either of us when I stroked him like this. My hair would fall back to brush his knees, he would fondle my breasts and thumb my clit, I'd wrap my arm back behind me and let the back of my fingers whisper across his balls. I set a slow maddening pace that touched me in just the right place and that kept him on the edge. And then I waited for the snap of the last vestiges of his control. When he grabbed my hips forcefully and started fucking me from underneath—which he always eventually did—his zeal catapulted me forth to my release.

I smiled in satisfaction, relishing these final moments that he did me long, and hard, and deep. My man wasn't a screamer, this time his climax came with a desperate, whimpered cry. Before he even caught his breath, he pulled me down to hug me fiercely.

And I thought,_ there's no place like home._

* * * * *

Two hours later, we sat in a hot tub nursing cool glasses of wine. It had turned out to be the kind of night where things went backwards: a wanton romp on the closet floor led to sweet lovemaking on our bed. When I was completely sated, he'd massaged my feet before leaving me to rest. I awoke from my cat nap when he lifted me from the bed, laying me gently into a bath steeping with fresh sage from my garden. He slid open the windows that sat beside our soaking tub, inviting in the other smells of the forest. At last, he coaxed me forward so that he could take his seat behind me. We touched and petted for what felt like a long time, running the tap every so often to re-heat the water. Sometimes I dozed and sometimes we chatted. It felt absolutely divine.

"So I talked to Edward. About 'The Rules'."

I smiled lazily at Carlisle's attempt to sound nonchalant. He had dearly anticipated these talks with his son. His own father had been somewhat absent, and "The Rules" were among Carlisle's only conscious memories of bonding. When I mentioned two weeks ago that I thought Edward and Bella were having sex, Carlisle's eyes had shimmered with delight. That instant, he'd vowed to have a man to man with Edward while Alice and I were gone.

"How'd he take it?"

My husband may have been tactful and kind, but Edward was shy as hell. Carlisle chuckled, the rumble of sound from his chest vibrating through mine.

"You should've seen the look on his face the first time I said 'pussy'."

I smiled around my glass as I took a sip of wine. I could just imagine Edward's blush. Half the time, he was worse than Bella.

I chided gently, still amused, "you said you'd be easy on him."

"Not to worry. It took him a few days to get over the initial embarrassment, but now he's doing great."

"And, by great you mean…"

"You know I can't say too much."

At that, I rolled my eyes.

Carlisle took this "Cullen Men Wisdom" a little too seriously. He'd been freakishly tight-lipped about "The Rules". Why he thought he could tell me anything new about the mysteries of a woman's body seriously escaped me. Yet, he guarded this wisdom jealously. It seemed a good guess that this had something to do with pride.

He'd rather I'd never learned that "The Rules" existed. He'd been forced to come clean some twenty years before. We were high school sweethearts, not unlike Edward and Bella. We were both each other's firsts. Back then, when I compared kissing notes with my girl friends and it was clear their men knew nothing compared to mine, I threatened to leave Carlisle if he didn't tell me exactly how a self-proclaimed novice knew so many tricks. And so he told me "The Rules" existed, and explained how he came to know them. Outside of sharing his intention to tell Edward one day, that was all I knew.

"At least tell me whether my suspicion was correct."

"It was not. They're close, but their virtue remains intact."

_Their _virtue?

"Bella's too?"

That surprised me a little. More than once, I'd seen her look about ready to rape my son. Her sixteen-year-old lust reminded me of mine. I may have raped Carlisle once or twice.

"Would you rather it not?"

"I didn't mean it like that. She just strikes me as…_eager_."

Carlisle chuckled again.

"Apparently she is," he murmured. "It's got Edward a little spooked. Doesn't know what he's got, lucky bastard. Between his Cullen genes and a woman like her, with my tutelage, they will be magnificent."

I gave him a loving, warning, nudge._ Humility, thy name is Carlisle._

"Alright, Dr. Ruth, but can you please just give him some time, and room to come into his own? He's more sensitive than you were, Carlisle. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"Of course I'll give him time," he said too innocently.

And I saw it right then. This situation needed damage control.

"In the meantime, I'll speak with Bella."

It was time to extend my own feminine wisdom—to tell her what I knew of "Cullen Love" and to pass on what my mother told me.

"And tell her what, exactly?"

He proceeded with caution. _Wise, dear, very wise._

"'The Rules', of course. You didn't think we had rules of our own? You know I had a talk with Alice."

"I thought you told her about babies and birth control. I didn't think you told her about _sex_!"

I shook with laughter, unable to speak. _My love, you are so naive._

"Really, Esme," he scoffed, annoyed no doubt by my laughter and the thought of me having a similar talk with Alice. "Doesn't Bella have a mother of her own?"

"Bella's mother lives over 3,000 miles away," I reminded him. "And, didn't you have a talk with Jasper?"

He said nothing for a moment. He knew he was beat.

"Yes, dear. I suppose I did."

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes**

Chapter 5 will resume with Edward getting schooled. There will only be three more chapters. Obiously, one of these will include an Esme/Bella convo. I am aiming to finish the rest of the fic by early December. I know, it's a short little fic, but NaNoWriMo calls :)


	5. Balinese Worm Tongue

**A/N:** Yes, folks—it's been a long time. I try not to make excuses for late updates, but this one's a doozie: for the past month and a half I have been dealing with all the "joys" of first trimester pregnancy. I have barely left my house. I have been to the gym once. I have subsided on ginger ale, saltines, and cravings. I have been feeling like absolute crap and therefore reading more than I'm writing. I'm hoping the worst is over and that my writing mojo will return. In the meantime, I appreciate your patience (and any fic recs, too—like I said, I'm doing a LOT of reading).

**What happened last chapter (since you probably forgot):** Esme and Alice came home from visiting colleges and Carlisle and Esme got all freaky in the dressing closet and romantic in the tub. Esme got wind of the fact that Carlisle might be a little overzealous in his coaching of Edward; she insisted on arranging a similar sharing of wisdom with Bella to balance it out.

* * * * *

**Chapter 5 – Balinese Worm Tongue**

**CPOV**

"Sleep, my love," I whispered to Esme with a smooth of her hair and a kiss to her brow, though her whine of protest implored me to stay.

I'd loved her thoroughly (if not relentlessly) for each of the three nights and two mornings she'd been back home and I knew my wife was tired. Wanting nothing more than to drift off with her, I lingered for a moment hoping I'd hear Edward's engine coming up the drive. But he wasn't due home yet, and if I stayed in bed I'd fall asleep, and one of us always made sure the kids got home alright. Tucking the covers around her after I slipped out of bed, I blew the candles out and gave her a final kiss.

I washed up a little and picked up the room, saving Esme the trouble of doing it in the morning. After slipping on striped gray silk pajama pants and a fitted v-neck undershirt, I quietly exited our room. Closing the door behind me, I strode toward the stairs, my footfalls silent on thick carpet. Just as I reached the top of the steps, I heard Edward walk inside.

I watched my son as he closed himself in and fell back against the door. His eyes were closed, his mouth curved in a crooked grin and he let out an indulgent sigh. I smiled a little smile of my own.

_Looks like we both got some tonight._

"Did you and Bella get in some good studying?" I asked, taking to my descent of the stairs.

I didn't bother hiding my smirk, so he didn't bother lying. Deepening the angle of his grin as he slowly opened his eyes, he just shook his head.

"But, I take it you kids had fun, _whatever_ you did."

His eyes had followed me to the foot of the stairs.

"Dad, I think I'm in love."

His expression was still dreamy, and I could only chuckle.

"I thought we'd already established that."

"Not just with Bella, dad. I've been reading that book you gave me. I've been practicing what it says."

"And?"

He didn't even find it in him to blush.

"And, I can't stop licking her pussy."

* * * * *

**EPOV**

"She Comes First: The Thinking Man's Guide to Pleasuring a Woman" had turned out to be worth its weight in gold. Given my stamina problems I figured I'd better get good at pleasing Bella. No sooner had my dad lent me the book than I dove right in. It had everything, from the misunderstood anatomy of the vagina to the female orgasm to notes on technique and timing. It went beyond mechanics and elevated the discussion to cunnilingus as a creative art. I read it in a single sitting and got over my intimidation quick. I tried it on Bella the very next day. That was two days ago, and ever since then, I couldn't get enough.

"She loves it, Dad. I wanted her to like it, but…"

_But the little minx fucking loved it._

We were in Carlisle's study by then, in our regular seats, drinking scotch.

"I mean, I fumbled a little at the beginning until I got my bearings." I admitted. "But, then I hit a groove, and figured out what I was doing and it drove her fucking wild."

I looked at him earnestly, then.

"And now she begs me, Dad. Begs me to let her come. I've never felt so powerful in my life. And the way _she tastses_..."

When my dick twitched in memory of Bella's delectable bouquet, I figured I'd better rein it in. I knew I was probably babbling, or saying too much, but I couldn't stop the words from spilling forth. Licking Bella's pussy was my favorite new thing to do and I owed Carlisle for knowing how.

"I'm thrilled things are going so well, son. It came to my attention that covering so much ground in such a short time might be too much, too soon."

Was he kidding? Half the time I didn't know whether to hug him for telling me all this or punch him for not doing it earlier.

"So, what's next? Do you want me to keep going with the rules, or do you want to stay on oral sex for awhile? An old swami taught me something called the 'Balinese Worm Tongue'. Your mother still sends him a holiday card."

I rolled my eyes in silent surrender to these references about my mom. I was slowly accepting the obvious and since her return, I'd seen all the signs. The way she and my dad both "went to bed early" every night but came downstairs tired and happy every morning now made sense. When I managed to ponder my parents' sex life without thinking about it too hard, I liked that my mom had someone as devoted as my dad.

"Uh, maybe next time on the Balinese Worm Tongue…" That actually sounded kind of scary. "There's something else Bella is begging for and I don't know how much longer I can head her off."

"What's that, now?" He looked at me patiently as he took a sip of his scotch.

"She wants to return the favor. She keeps bugging me to let her suck my…" I trailed off, shifting self-consciously as my cock twitched once again.

"And, you don't let her?"

Somewhat ashamed, I shook my head. He looked at me incredulously for a long moment before closing his eyes and pinching his nose in his fingers. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously low.

"The beauty of The Rules, son, is that they can be added onto and modified to instruct the wisdom of future Cullens. Until tonight, there were a total of nine. But, tonight a new rule is born."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as his eyes bored into mine.

"Can you guess what rule ten is, Edward?"

Now I was afraid to speak.

"If the woman to whom you are committed begs to give you a blow job, for the love of God, you are to _take it_."

He made it sound so simple. Of course I wanted to take it!

"But, Dad, what if—" I stammered helplessly. "What if something goes wrong?"

"Such as…"

"Like me losing control or coming all over her face or…" I gulped, then whispered, "Dad, what if she bites it?"

He looked at me incredulously for another moment before his lips quivered and he laughed. He had the decency to cover his mouth with his fist, but still.

"Glad I amuse you…" I sulked, putting down my drink.

He pulled himself together.

"She's not a vampire, son. I don't think she's going to bite you."

I looked at him speculatively.

"And there's a universal signal for not coming all over her face. When it's almost time, give her a little nudge. Push her shoulder back and tell her you're about to come. She'll get out of the way if that's what she wants."

I nodded reluctantly, supposing it made sense, but a few minutes later, I was still sulking.

"Is there something else?"

His voice was concerned. If I was honest, the answer was yes.

"Things are going so well now, and I seem to be making her happy…"

"And you're wondering why you can't just let things stay the way they are?"

I nodded in embarrassment.

"Right now, she thinks I'm a sex god. I kind of want to keep it that way. For the first time I actually know what I'm doing."

His face softened and his eyes became wise and I knew he'd say just the right thing.

"Edward, suppose Bella did bite you—by mistake, of course. Do you think you would love her any less?"

I shook my head.

"What would you do?"

"I'd forgive her, and be patient with her and help us learn together."

"That's the important part, Son. You and Bella are in this together. And as long as you keep sharing your ups and downs, you'll become phenomenal."

I nodded, knowing he was probably right, but still chagrined by the idea of letting go.

"And so goes another of The Rules, son: learn to give and take."

* * * * *

**EsmePOV**

I gave Bella a warm hug as she approached the front door, the first of many attempts to ease her nerves. I'd always been welcoming of her role in my son's life but we'd never spent much time alone. However affable I'd been when I called her that week, the summons to join me for lunch was abrupt. I hadn't lied when I said I wanted us to get to know one another better, but I think she sensed we had something to discuss.

"Is there anything I can help with?" she asked, following me into the kitchen.

I shook my head. "It's all done, just warming in the oven."

I grabbed a mitt and reached in to grab the two plates, setting them down at the breakfast table that overlooked the garden.

"You made stuffed peppers?" she smiled widely, eyeing what was on the plate.

"Edward mentioned they were one of your favorites," I smiled kindly.

I motioned for her to sit before I did the same and requested that she please go ahead and dig in.

"Thank you for having me over for lunch, Mrs. Cullen," she said politely, after complimenting the dish. "It was nice of you to invite me."

I remembered what it was like to be on my best behavior for Carlisle's parents, even when I was fucking their son.

"Please, Bella. Call me Esme. Mrs. Cullen was my mother-in-law, and she didn't like me very much."

Bella's well-mannered chewing abated long enough for her to look genuinely surprised.

"She thought I was bad for her son," I clarified, preparing to tell her the story.

She looked around my kitchen and out to my garden.

"But you're, like, the perfect wife."

I laughed so hard at that, that she started laughing, too and it began to break the ice. From there, the conversation flowed. She asked me how I came to be the curator at a museum and I learned about her love for literature and her dreams to write. When she talked about she and Edward I learned little tidbits about my son that he was too busy to tell his poor mother. She spoke of him with fond animation and I found myself eating them up.

When I commented that I had noticed that she and Edward were serious, she seemed to have anticipated the observation, affirming strongly how much she loved him. Though college was a year away, she admitted they had talked about applying to the same schools. She looked relieved when I brought up the fact that my husband and I shared an alma mater. Finally ready to strike, I waited till she'd chewed what was in her mouth. I didn't want the poor girl to choke.

"So tell me, Bella. Did the multi-orgasmic fingers and magical tongue get passed down from my husband to Edward?"

When she choked a little anyway, I just smiled and continued on.

"Don't be shy, dear. I'm his mother, but I'm not blind. I'd be shocked if you could keep your hands off of him. And he practically salivates when you're in his presence, so I doubt he's keeping his hands off of you."

Her cheeks were the color of a pomegranate; she was more flustered than I had thought.

"Either you're mortified by the question or you're blushing deeply at the memory of my son making you come."

Pomegranate turned to raspberry.

"So, which one is it, dear?"

I patted her hand comfortingly, and laughed when she squeaked out her answer.

"Both."

* * * * *

**BPOV**

"I don't mean to embarrass you," Esme said soothingly after I made the most mortifying confession of my life. "But, your own mother is far away, and I don't know how candidly you talk."

Her eyes were kind and she seemed sincere, and, to be honest, what she'd said had struck a chord.

"Not very candidly," I admitted, still blushing. "And, as you might imagine, leveling with The Chief is not an option."

Esme nodded again. "I think I understand."

I wrung my hands restlessly under the table, wondering what she wanted me to say.

"You and Edward love and respect each other, Bella. Whatever you do together, there's no reason to be ashamed. From our perspective, you and Edward are lucky to have one another as your first. Carlisle was my first, and I was his, and we were both younger than the two of you."

Interesting, but I was still skeptical. I'd heard of parents like this, but didn't quite believe they existed.

"So you approve?"

She smiled.

"We'd rather make it safe for you than to shame you into hiding it away."

"Uh…thanks?"

I cringed when I heard my tone. It hadn't been meant as a question. Esme patted my hand again.

"Come, Bella. The sun is out for once. Why don't we go for a walk?" She poured us coffee and we started out the kitchen door.

The Cullens' property was expansive. In no time we had passed through her garden and found ourselves on a gravel path. I listened to the pebbles crunch under our feet as we took our leisurely walk.

It should have been awkward but Esme's quiet manner was contagious and actually made me calm. Reaching the clearing that held the oversized garden chess game, we finally settled on an antique stone bench.

"I trust that health class and the Internet have given you a sense for what goes where," Esme began again with a little smile.

"Yeah, well beyond that, they pretty much left us on our own," I said half under my breath.

She took a long sip of her coffee before setting it down on the bench.

"Don't be shy, Bella. The clearer you are on exactly what to expect, the better it'll be."

I kept my own coffee in my hand, staring down at the subtle swirl of cream. It took me not seconds, but two or three minutes to gather the courage to ask.

"You probably know this already, but Edward is…" I lowered my already weak voice, "—pretty _big_. And I know he'd never hurt me on purpose, but…I'm almost sure he will."

I looked up at her nervously, biting my lip, still half-expecting this to all be a trap.

"He probably will," she admitted with a rueful smile. "But the pain will be worse if your muscles are tense. It'll get better with time but at the beginning, remember to relax and have him go slow."

Slight distress crossed her face.

"And, I won't lie to you, Bella—you may be disappointed. It'll be hard for him to last the first few times. Beyond learning stamina, he needs to figure out how to make you come that way, and it's bound to take him some time."

I nodded, and took a thoughtful sip.

"But there are plenty of other things to keep you busy. Before…it sounded like Edward was doing well in other areas?"

My blush returned with a fervor. She lifted her cup once more and I thought I saw a smile hidden behind a lengthy sip.

"Edward is amazing," I admitted. "More proof of his perfection," I mumbled in a lower voice, but Esme heard me.

She cast me a sympathetic look and I felt a little bit childish for sulking.

"He only wants you to _think_ he's perfect, Bella. The truth is, he's just as scared as you."

"Scared _of_ me is more like it. He never lets me reciprocate." I lowered my eyes in shame. "I think I'm doing something wrong."

I heard Esme put down her own cup again before she pulled mine out of my hand, setting the fine ceramic down with a soft clink upon the stone.

"Bella, I love my son and all of his quirks, but even I know he is obsessed with control. Has it occurred to you that he might slow things down because your reciprocation would feel so good, it would make him lose his shit?"

My eyes flew back to her face and my jaw dropped straight down. Hearing a woman who pruned her rosebushes in a skirt and heels ask me in dulcet tones to consider whether fondling her son would make him "lose his shit" was just too much.

"Uh…" I stammered helplessly.

"I don't mean to be crass, dear, but if you've never gotten it stuck in a zipper, stroked it until it chafed, or bitten it down on it too hard, you're not doing anything wrong."

What did she mean bitten down _too hard? _Why would I ever bite it?

"Which only leaves the possibility that Edward is scared of embarrassing himself in front of you, Bella. He's scared he'll come too soon."

"But isn't that kind of the point?" I blurted, forgetting my couth but remembering my voice.

Esme only gave a contrite shake of her head before pinning me with a serious look.

"There is no making sense of man logic, Bella. If you learn nothing else today, learn that."

* * * * *

**EsmePOV**

She looked dejected and I was sorry to be the one to break the news about some of these things, but Bella deserved the truth.

"So, what, I have to just…wait?"

The more I could align her expectations with reality, the better it would be.

"Bella, a man's ego is a delicate thing—especially when it comes to sex. They all want to be stallions in bed, but they can't there without a lot of feedback from us. The secret is, you have to find ways to coach them that don't make them feel like less of a man. Reverse psychology might be the best approach if confrontation isn't working."

She chewed on her lip, thinking about this for a minute—I could see the wheels turning in her head.

"Reverse psychology, like, convince him I _don't_ want to do it?"

_That might be interesting._

"Hmmm…that's not quite what I meant. You need to say something that will play on his desire to satisfy _you_ so that he lets you satisfy _him_. It might work if you told him you have a fantasy about having him in your mouth and that you love to watch him come."

I was pleased when, instead of blushing or looking embarrassed by my forwardness, the corner of her mouth turned up in a devious smile.

_Looks like we're making progress._

"So, basically, I should trick him?"

"It'll work like a charm," I confessed, "…and not just in bed. You'd die if you saw the ugly clothes Carlisle picks up off the rack when we go shopping. But he _buys _whatever I tell him makes me hot."

She giggled.

"And when he started his residency? That was the absolute worst! His feet got so callused and rough from all the hours of standing. So I told him I developed a foot fetish, and he started sneaking off to get pedicures."

By then I was laughing too.

"You tricked Dr. Cullen into getting _pedicures_?"

Her eyes were as wide as saucers.

"And I did it without an iota of guilt. You know, men have their own wisdom for dealing with us, too. Turnabout is fair play."

…which reminded me of something she said earlier.

"And, Bella? That thing you said about Edward being perfect?" I shook my head. "Let's just say he's getting at least as much help as you."

Realization dawned on her face as she realized Carlisle was coaching Edward. I put my arm around her shoulder in a motherly gesture.

"One day—not now, but years from now—remind me to tell you about The Rules."

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes:** Two more chapters 'til the end, folks. I'll try not to make the time between updates too long. Meanwhile, purely for my entertainment and the entertainment of those who like to troll reviews: anyone have any good "first time" stories?


	6. Feral

**A/N: **::ducks rotten tomatoes:** : **Yes, I know. It's been awhile. Thanks to everyone for hanging in there with me while I dealt with the time constraints imposed by a toddler and the temporary loss of my mojo :) A much belated thanks also to Perv Pack Smut Shack for pimping my fic. Ladies, I am truly honored! Also, huge kisses to my muse, and fic wife, MaBarberella, who loves her some Carlisle, too!

**~/~/~/~/~**

**Last time, on AoW (Esme POV)**

_"So tell me, Bella. Did the multi-orgasmic fingers and magical tongue get passed down from my husband to Edward?"_

_When she choked a little anyway, I just smiled and continued on._

_"Don't be shy, dear. I'm his mother, but I'm not blind. I'd be shocked if you could keep your hands off of him. And he practically salivates when you're in his presence, so I doubt he's keeping his hands off of you."_

_Her cheeks were the color of a pomegranate; she was more flustered than I had thought._

_"Either you're mortified by the question or you're blushing deeply at the memory of my son making you come."_

_Pomegranate turned to raspberry._

_"So, which one is it, dear?"_

_I patted her hand comfortingly, and laughed when she squeaked out her answer._

_"Both."_

**~/~/~/~/~**

**BPOV**

I'd taken to wearing skirts. It was a warm spring in Forks and, I hated to admit when Rose was right, but they made sneaking off with Edward much easier. And when I say "sneaking off", I mean cutting class regularly and hiking to a private little spot in the woods behind the school.

Far past the little cove where all the stoners got high, and way out of the way of blow job rock, was a tiny, unshaded clearing nestled in a natural circle of shoulder-high boulders. An old, fallen tree lay rotting and mossy nearby, part of it and the boulders staying warm and dry inside the small radius of sun that shone through.

We'd been more than a few times since things started getting intense, since Edward started treating my hoo-ha like the Bellagio buffet and his mother wore pearls and served coffee while talking about the family jewels. I wasn't complaining, exactly. While other high school girls suffered through fumbling makeout sessions that were, in all likelihood, anticlimactic, Edward's lithe fingers and deft tongue gave me more big Os than a dozen Tim Hortons.

But, there was another important difference between my classmates and me—their sweaty-palmed boys were begging for more. I, meanwhile, had managed to fall in love with the only 17-year-old boy in the history of the world who was putting on the brakes.

It consumed my every thought. Time apart from Edward was spent not studying for my SATs, but silently bargaining with the gods of getting some to please, just let me touch his cock. Don't laugh. Just because I haven't really seen it yet doesn't mean I don't know what it can do. If it has even half the talent of his other parts, selling my virgin soul to have at it will have been a fair price.

But, my prayers hadn't been answered and even practical advice wasn't getting me far. I'd tried reverse psychology, like Esme had said. It turned out Edward wasn't as smart as he looked. My brilliant, thick-headed boyfriend had taken to letting me closer to the goods, but at this rate we'd be in college before I got a good look.

_Maybe I shouldn't complain._

After all, he had been letting me touch it more. Over the weekend he'd let me unzip his pants and fondle him through his underwear while he ate me out. But, instead of mollifying me, it only prompted me to want more, more of those primal sounds he made, more of him pulsing in my hand. When he'd warned that he was going to come, I'd snuck my hand past his waistband for the last couple of strokes. Edward's dick was hot, silky heaven.

_God, I'm such a horny bitch_, I thought as a shifted a little in my seat, letting my eyes fall upon Edward's studying form. His left pointer finger held a spot on the page in his math book while he worked a problem in his notebook with his right. A wave of heat (the angry kind) crashed over me. How could Edward focus on Calculus when every other 17-year old boy (and half the girls in the room) were surely thinking about sex?

_Enough._

And, I _had_ had enough, I realized. Waited long enough. Been understanding enough as I let Edward set the pace. Now, the time had come. It's not like I wanted to drown his puppy, for fuck's sake! I just wanted to make him feel good. As good as he made me feel. Maybe even better.

**~/~/~/~/~**

**EPOV**

_Library instead of lunch._

I took a break from studying Calculus problems to surreptitiously read Bella's text. We weren't supposed to be texting in study hall, but it was one of many rules that Bella and I ignored. We'd started the semester sitting next to each other, but the teacher had had to "separate" us for disrupting thing. So, we texted instead of taking. Even sexted on occasion. It made me wonder sometimes, how teenagers flirted with one another in school before the advent of smartphones.

_Not hungry?_

I'd kind of been hoping that, for lunch, we'd head out to that place in the woods. We'd had some epic makeout sessions these past couple of weeks.

_Our "study date" after school? We're not gonna study :)_

I tried to look outwardly normal as, inwardly, I surrendered to what had gone from a hopeful to a justified boner. At least I had another 20 minutes of class before I needed it to go away.

_Fuck_, I thought, already imagining what might happen after school. After the last little talk with my dad, which had ended with some pointers on technique, I felt much closer to letting Bella have her way. I'd been working on my stamina and felt closer than ever to being able to take the next step without completely embarrassing myself. Did Bella want it to happen today?

Lunch dragged on, but at least we knocked out most of the project we were supposed to be working on after school. But, in Bio, I couldn't help but notice Bella looked a little distracted. Her eyes were forward, but her face was flushed and she had a strange little smile on her face. So I wrote a new note on the corner of my paper and slid it her way.

_Care to share with the class?_

After she read it, I looked at her meaningfully and raised a knowing eyebrow. But instead of grabbing the notepad and sharing her thoughts, which Bella always did when I asked, she shrugged (rather coyly, I thought), blushing ever so slightly as she trained her eyes back toward the front of the class.

_Bella, what are you thinking about?_ I wrote back urgently.

I had sprung wood yet again by the time I passed her this second note. She kept her attention upon the paper for a torturous minute, before revealing the truth with her eyes. The look she gave me started out sexy guilty dangerous, then turned predatory, almost fierce.

By then I wasn't even pretending to pay attention to the lecture, rapt instead by her eyes traveling slowly down my jaw, then across length of my fingers, before falling to my lap. And, when she bit her lip then it wasn't shy, or cute or nervous.

Her gaze lingered, and I was frozen, breathless to her every move. In that moment I felt that I'd do anything she asked, right there in Bio, in front of everyone. But she didn't ask me to. She just stared at my cock for way longer than was appropriate before putting pen to paper and writing back a note of her own.

_I think we both know the answer to that._

It was possible that I actually moaned at some point during the reading of that note. I was too worked up to seriously wonder whether I actually did, and check whether anybody noticed.

Quietly, I took Bella's left hand, which was resting on her thigh, and covered it with mine. Ever so slowly, so as not to be discovered, I slid it on top of my erection. It's not that I wanted my girlfriend to fondle me in Bio—rather, I had to teach her a lesson about what a note display that could do to a guy. I had zero hope of going about the rest of my day without a conspicuous boner.

"You're in so much trouble," I leaned into her ear and delivered a low growl that only she could hear.

The little vixen's response was to give my cock a squeeze. I myself did more than squeeze it in an out of the way bathroom right after class. I more than squeezed it again when I took another bathroom break eighth period to rub one out.

The after school study session was at my place. They were pretty liberal to begin with when it came to having Bella in my room, but it didn't matter today anyway—they were both working late.

"You're in so much trouble," I repeated when we finally reached my bedroom, divesting her of her book bag as I silently vowed to kiss the sly little smile from her face. I didn't back up an inch, my tall frame towering over her as I made to walk her backward toward the bed. Verbal foreplay was one thing, but doing what she'd done and me not being able to do anything about it for four fucking hours was another. She needed to see what that kind of thing could do to a man.

"Not so fast," she feinted, poking her finger in my chest just as she ducked her head to dodge what was going to be a serious kiss. "You're absolutely sure your parents won't come home?"

"Positive," I murmured, ducking my head towards her once again. This time her whole palm firmly pushed my chest, keeping me at bay.

I tried not to groan as I took a step back.

_Please don't change your mind, please don't change your mind_, I pray-chanted in my head.

"Good," she said, a wicked smile forming on her face. "Then you can be as loud as you want when I make you come."

Shit—we were really going to do this! I think I might have swooned. In a manly way, of course. I heard metal against metal, the clanging of my belt as Bella unfastened my pants jolting me back to the present. I clenched my fists to keep from reaching out, stopping her hands, doing as I had done so many times before. I thought of my father, told myself to man up, and jumped into the abyss.

It was dreamlike, allowing her to turn us around, sit me on the bed, take off my pants. It was every fantasy come true, watching her sink to her knees before me, seeing her flip her hair to the side, feeling her breath tickle my skin before her tongue peeked out.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck…"

My fists dug in to clench my bed sheets. My voice didn't sound like my own. I absolutely could not watch this if I wanted to maintain control.

I squeezed my eyes shut and my head fell back. Her hands were so small. Her touch, so light and unsure. Still, it was three times as good as mine. Her tongue was so warm, its fascinating texture scintillating my hyper-sensitive flesh. And when her tentative fingers slid down to fondle my balls, I discovered the meaning of ecstasy. I also discovered that I was capable of making a noise that sounded like a wounded mountain lion.

"Shit, did I do something wrong?"

It wasn't so much Bella's voice that permeated my haze as it was the cool air that hit the head of my cock when her lips left their rightful home. I wanted to wrap my fingers around the back of her head and shove my dick even deeper into her hot little mouth. If I'd been thinking clearly, I'd be a bit scared of myself. This was making me rather…feral.

"Fuck no, don't stop," I pleaded instead, stopping just short of begging a pretty please with sugar on top. I needed her mouth back on me right the fuck now. I hoped I sounded convincing, but just in case, I looked down to throw her a reassuring look.

_Wow, I shouldn't have done that_, I thought absently, taking in dark lashes against flushed cheeks, the matching pink of her swollen lips. Watching her mouth descend upon me a second time, more firmly, more confidently, completely did me in. I couldn't warn her. There was no time. I came spectacularly, right in Bella's mouth.

**~/~/~/~/~**

**BPOV**

In the two weeks since he'd started letting me near little Edward, my control freak boyfriend had become quite the little whore. He could barely keep his pants on. Every time we were alone, his eyes lit up with hope that I might give a repeat performance of that first time in his room.

I'd more than thrice obliged him, suddenly understanding both sides—especially why he kept wanting to do it to me. Once I got past that first brackish mouthful of "Essence of Edward," I started tasting something different when I had him in my mouth: I discovered the taste of power, and I rather liked the finish.

It excited and awed me all at the same time—witnessing his pleasure was unbearably sexy. His voice, the way his hands threaded in my hair, and even the raggedness of his breath got me as hot (if not hotter) than the most intimate touches. Seeing how vulnerable he was in these moments, and the moments after, filled me with gratitude and wonder. I finally knew what all the hype was, finally understood how people got too caught up in the moment to remember condoms, understood how people had affairs and one night stands. Some moments, some connections, between two people took on a life of their own. I finally understood how "one thing could lead to another."

And speaking of that one thing and that 'nother…I could sense us getting close. Now that Edward was no longer shy of me touching him, our makeout sessions were getting pretty heavy. We were two kids in love whose parents spent an extraordinary time away from home. It was only a matter of time.

**~/~/~/~/~**

**A/N:** One chapter left, kids! Thanks for all the love and faith that I haven't abandoned this, or any of my fic. I am trying my darndest to finish it by Valentine's Day. I know how it ends. I just have to write it.

Meanwhile, are you reading "The Cassolette" by Mabarberella? It's the sequel to "The Hummer." So, you should be.

And, my favorite fic of the year is definitely "Animate Me" by Abstract Way. If you don't fall in love with Toonward, I'll eat my hat.


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